I love you most while you’re asleep,

tangled through the sheets,

a skin and linen swap meet,

sprawled there in threadbare clothes,

regal in repose, with hands thrown

open to palms and level headed,

stirring, mumbled proclamations

of dream nation doctrine,

confident in somnambulant

though prone, to whispers of the willing

flesh through fabric copse

in effervescent glimmers

imposing porcelain instances

upon my defenses, wearing me

down into the governance of sleep.

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